


I Hoped it Would Be You

by Lovethistoomuch



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, S06E21 Help Me, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovethistoomuch/pseuds/Lovethistoomuch
Summary: Alternative ending to Season 6 Episode 22 "Help me", where Cuddy doesn't walk in and House actually takes the Vicodin. When he closes his eyes and opens them, Wilson is there. But the real Wilson is at home with Sam, right? So, it can only be a hallucination! At least that's what House thinks...
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Duo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801367) by [yarroway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway). 



> This is the darkest fic I have written so far. If there are any additional warnings, I should put in, please let me know.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

House is sitting on the floor in his bathroom, the pill bottle in his hand. His thumb grazes over the lid. He shouldn't take them, he knows that. But why was that again? He cannot think of a single reason...

There's no one rushing in, grabbing the pills out of his hand. Nobody to save him from himself. Cuddy was right. They have all moved on. There's no one here. He is alone.

House pops open the bottle with the familiar sound echoing around the bathroom. Still nothing happens, no last-minute rescue. He puts two Vicodin in his mouth and swallows them dry. Then, a third. He stares at the box. _Why not just take all of them? Ridding this world of the burden that is Gregory House?_

He waits, closes his eyes and waits for the pain to disappear. He doesn't hear the front door opening, doesn't hear the steps in the hallway. When he opens his eyes, Wilson is there.

“House?”, Wilson says with that panicked look on his face, that always makes House somewhat feel good because it shows that he _cares_. It makes sense for it to be Wilson because Wilson is probably the only person who could talk him out of this. His subconscious has chosen wisely.

“I hoped it would be you”, House says. He is blinking slowly. All his senses have been numbed. He watches as Wilson makes a few steps around the room, assessing the situation.

“What happened?”, Wilson asks, as if he didn't already know. This isn't as fun as the last hallucination he had had about Cuddy.

“Can we skip the talking part and get directly to the sex?”, House asks.

Wilson freezes. “What?”, he says, straightening his back after he had looked into the bathtub full of shards.

“It's just... this 'your life is worth living' talk you have lined up for me is probably great but I'm not in the mood for talking right now...”

Wilson takes a step back. He puts his hands on his hips and scans House with his eyes from top to bottom. “You are high!”, he finally concludes, which makes House chuckle.

“Obviously, or you wouldn't be here”, he answers.

That makes Wilson frown. “What do you mean?”, he asks.

“Well, my subconscious probably knows you are the only person who can talk me out of this, so it conjured you up. The only problem is that I know it's fake, so it won't change my mind. But nice try!”

House tries to scramble to his feet and Wilson immediately rushes towards him to help. His hands are pushed away as promptly as they appear to help as House starts limping into the bedroom. There is no reason for him to sit on an uncomfortable floor. If he is going to go out, he should at least be comfortable!

“How many Vicodin did you take?”, Wilson wants to know. He is walking right beside him.

House shoots him a glance. “Not enough”, he replies: “Not yet.” He lets himself fall down on the bed with a relieved sigh. “Aaaah, much better”, he says and looks at the bottle still in his left hand. _Another one probably wouldn't hurt._

“Hey!”, House shouts as Wilson snatches the bottle out of his hand and places it on the nearby dresser.

“I'm not going to let you poison yourself any more! We are getting you to the hospital!”, he says in a stern voice that manages to sound angry and sympathetic at the same time.

“Even as a hallucination, you're no fun!”, House complains: “I want Cuddy back!”

Something in Wilson's face changes. It's as if something behind his eyes shuts down. He bites his teeth together. “You are not going to get her”, he says: “You are stuck with me. And I am not a hallucination.”

“Yeah, right!”, House counters: “That's exactly what a hallucination would say...”

“Fine!”, Wilson snaps, throwing up his arms: “I am a hallucination! Feel free to share all your deepest secrets right now!” House smiles. Maybe he was wrong. Hallucinating Wilson is more fun than he thought.

Then the realisation hits him again and his smile fades. “Wilson wouldn't be here”, he says: “He is at home with his soon to be ex-ex-wife, playing happy family. He wouldn't come here. He wouldn't care. He has moved on.” House can't even look at his own hallucination. Just saying these words is too much.

There is a moment of silence. Then he hears Wilson sigh. “Obviously, I haven't”, he says: “And why would you even think that?”

“You know why”, House says again. Explaining things to himself isn't his favourite pastime.

“It's because of Sam?”, Wilson tries but his voice sounds uncertain, as if there was a different question in there that he doesn't dare to ask. If this is his subconscious' way of trying to make him say it out loud, it's not working. Not that he has to say it out loud anyway, it's already very real in his heart.

House sits up on the bed, even the short amount of time he has spent there has made it all dusty, he stands up and walks towards Wilson. The other man doesn't retreat, he just waits, looking at him in confusion. “Can we skip your ponderous musing already and get to the good part?”, House asks a little impatient. He doesn't want this! This rehashing of all his fears, his insecurities. He took the Vicodin to get away from his pain, not be reminded of it. If he is going to have a hallucination, he wants it to make him feel good, not worse!

As House starts getting super close to him, Wilson finally startles but he still doesn't move away. “House, what are you doing?”, he asks.

“Having fun!”, House replies in a sinister tone. His voice is pretty low and for the fraction of a second, Wilson actually looks scared, as House grabs him by the collar and pulls him in.

Wilson's lips are soft and warm, just as he had imagined, which of course they are, if he imagined them like this! It is different than it was with Cuddy, because this time he knows it isn't real, but this doesn't mean, he cannot enjoy it! Wilson is responding slowly, tentatively and House can't help himself but wonder why his subconscious is being such a tease. Cuddy had been super hot and all over him immediately. It's as if even his subconscious knows that this is unrealistic, that Wilson doesn't feel like this about him, would never do this in real life.

House has that feeling, right before waking up from a dream, where you have figured out it is a dream and the world your head has built around you slowly crumbles away as your brain realises it was just a figment of your imagination. He pushes against Wilson, shoving him against the wall and kissing him with more urgency now, wanting to get all that he can, before this hallucination ends, before he is alone again. He hears a surprised sound out of Wilson's mouth as he stumbles backwards that is immediately replaced by a moan as his back collides with the wall and House dives in for another kiss, deep and passionate. Finally, Wilson does what he wants him to do: Opening his mouth to grant House more access, wrapping his arms around House's body, responding with the same urgent need that House is feeling within himself.

House gets lost. He doesn't care about anything any more. There is no pain, there is no sadness, just Wilson, stroking his back, getting one of his hands into House's hair, pulling at it just enough to hurt a little, biting his lip, while kissing him, making deep, soft sounds. House is moving away from his lips, kissing along Wilson's jaw to his neck, sliding his hands down Wilson's torso, and then down further.

“House!”, Wilson says and grabs House's wrists, stopping his movement. His voice sounds urgent and also a bit scared: “House, stop!” House groans and raises his head back up, looking into Wilson's eyes. They are wide open, staring in shock but also maybe there's a bit of sadness. “I can't...”, Wilson is panting. He looks at House's lips but then forces his gaze back up to meet his eyes: “Not as long as you think I'm a hallucination. That's not fair to you.”

House frowns, he pauses for a moment. “Fine”, he finally says: “You are not a hallucination! Now sleep with me!” His head darts forwards, kissing Wilson, before the other man can protest but it is only a short victory as Wilson withdraws immediately.

“I don't think you actually believe that”, he says, looking worried. You are obviously high right now and don't know what you're doing.” _This is getting less and less fun..._

House releases Wilson and he can actually see the other man sigh in relieve. “If you are not here to sleep with me, why _are_ you here?”, House asks.

Wilson steps away from the wall and brushes at his clothes. “To see how you are doing. How you're coping. Obviously not good.”

House rolls his eyes. “What, because I relapsed?”, he asks: “That was inevitable after a day like this, don't you think? First, I loose a patient! One of the only patients, I may add, with whom I ever build an emotional connection and then one of the only few people, I would actually consider a friend, tells me I'm trash and everyone is better off without me! And you know what? She's right!” There it is, he finally admitted it.

Wilson stares at him in shock. Then his expression changes. “That bitch!”, he curses with so much anger that House is actually surprised: “She told you what!? And she spoke for me as well?” The look of utter disbelieve on Wilson's face makes him think that maybe, maybe this is real, even though all the evidence points against it. A hallucination would know. They wouldn't be surprised. “She had _no_ right to do that! Even if she was angry! I imagine you made her pretty angry, but...” Wilson blinks a few times. He is clearly trying his hardest to make sense of the situation. “I... no one is replacing you in my life, not ever!”, he says, and it should feel good but it actually is like a stab directly into House's heart. That settles it then...

“House?”, Wilson asks, as the older man sits down on the bed heavily.

“Nothing”, House replies: “Just... for a second there you had me fooled. I actually thought you were real.”

A sigh, deep and heavy, Wilson shakes his head. “This is no use”, he says: “you need to shower and go to bed, and we continue this conversation tomorrow.” He suddenly laughs. “Man, I cannot wait for the moment you realise, it is actually me. Please don't jump out of the window or anything.” House can't help himself but smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. They look very sad. Wilson's smile is gone as well. “Shower!”, he says: “I'll wait.”

House lets his upper body fall down on the bed. “I don't need to shower. Just sleep”, he mumbles.

Wilson puts his hands on his hips. “Oh, no, you need to shower! Immediately! I have dirt in my mouth from kissing you and there is dust all over the bed. I'm not letting you fall asleep like this. Get up!”

“Even if I wanted to, I cannot shower. I broke the mirror, remember?”, House mumbles, already very sleepy.

He can picture Wilson's annoyed face from his voice alone. “I'm taking care of that”, he says: “Just don't fall asleep till I'm back!”

With that, Wilson is off and a moment later, House hears some noises from the bathroom, shards, scraping over tiles, then the water in the shower is switched on. Maybe this is what his subconscious wanted: Not some hot sex-fantasy but someone who actually takes care of him.

When Wilson comes back, he looks surprised to find House still awake. Without protesting any more, House gets up from the bed. He grabs fresh underwear and a shirt out of his drawer and limps into the bathroom. The hot water actually feels nice on his skin. And as he watches the clear stream turn into muddy brown, he has to agree that this was a good idea. He actually feels somewhat refreshed.

When House re-enters the bedroom, he notices that Wilson has changed his sheets. His bed looks fresh and inviting. He climbs under the covers. Wilson watches him with an uncertain expression, until House says: “Come on, get into bed with me.”

Wilson looks around the room, then back at House. “I don't know...”, he says, rubbing his neck: “I probably shouldn't...”

“I don't care”, House says and Wilson sighs. He removes his shoes and socks but nothing else and gets under the covers. House watches with a smile. “You are going to sweat like hell”, he points out but Wilson doesn't respond. He just shoots him an uncertain look. House stretches out his arm in Wilson's direction. “Come here”, he says and as the other man frowns, he adds: “I'm not gonna touch little Jimmy, I promise! Just come here!” Wilson shakes his head but there is a smile on his face as he scoots over, into House's arms.

His body feels warm and cosy, soft, unlike House's sharp and angular lines. They are facing each other, Wilson wrapping his left arm around House and House gently placing his right hand on Wilson's cheek. He can feel only a hint of stubble. His fingers are tracing Wilson's features, gently sliding into his hair. “I wished it was you”, House says, his voice very quiet: “I wished you were actually here.”

Wilson's dark, brown eyes are full of wonder as he looks at him. He smiles, soft and earnest. “it is me”, he says: “I am here!” And for a short moment, House's heart believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thanks goes to [yarroway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/) who inspired me to write this piece and gave me permission to publish my own take on their idea, they explored in their story [Duo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801367/chapters/15533191). It's a wonderful look at how "Help Me" could have ended (actually, it is two different ideas in two chapters) and if you liked this, I would highly recommend reading their story too. It's incredible!!  
>   
> As always, thank you [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for proofreading this story and helping me improve the little things!  
>   
> I am posting this as finished for now, but I have some ideas for a second chapter. Maybe, if I have time in the future, I will add more.


	2. Chapter 2

House wakes up in a very warm bed. It's warm and damp. He is sweating, probably due to the fact that there is a fully clothed man lying right next to him, left arm still draped over his body. He turns his head, looking at Wilson, studying his relaxed face. Wilson's hair looks pretty damp with sweaty strands clinging to his forehead. What an idiot! Sleeping in his clothes!

House smiles slightly, until it dawns on him that probably nothing of this is real. _Probably?_ He curses himself. _Don't be a fool, House...._

Carefully, he gets out of bed, the air in his bedroom is cool on his skin. If he wants this to continue, and he really does, he needs to take another Vicodin. House limps towards the dresser and reaches for the bottle. He takes it in his hand and turns around to look at Wilson, the reason why he is doing this.

Wilson opens his eyes. It only takes the fragment of a second for his face to express a row of emotions. First, he looks sleepy, then confused, as he scans the room, his eyes widen with shock as they fall on House and the bottle and soon turn into determination. House opens the lid.

“Oh no! No, no, no, no!”, Wilson exclaims, his voice still heavy with sleep. He scrambles to his knees and climbs over the bed very clumsily. He almost falls out of it, stumbling, as he rushes towards House and grabs the bottle out of his hand.

“I need to take them, or you will disappear”, House says calmly, as he studies his out of breath friend.

“I can assure you, the opposite is true!”, Wilson counters: “You cannot still think I'm a hallucination!”

“Why not? Amber did not go away just because I slept.”

Wilson sighs. “If I'm not here, then who removed the shards from your bathtub yesterday?”, he asks in a voice that suggest the IQ of the person he is talking to isn't very high.

Of course, House has an answer. “I did and imagined it was you.”

Wilson throws up his arms, then he points at House. “Look at you! You're all sweaty from sleeping in a bed with me!”

“You don't need another person to be sweaty in bed, I think we both know that.”

“Fine!”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“It's no use”, Wilson finally concludes: “We have to drive to Princeton to convince you.”

House let's his gaze wander over Wilson, his damp, sweaty hair, his wrinkled shirt with obvious pit stains.

“Like this?”, he asks.

“You think I care?”

This is different, so very different from all the hallucinations House has had before. Usually, the hallucinations didn't make a fuss about the fact that they weren't real, they talked openly about it. But not this time. This time...

A part of House starts wondering if this is real. Too much evidence seems to point towards it. There is a voice at the back of his head that keeps getting louder and louder, warning him and filling his mind with more and more anxiety. If this is actually real, he has kissed real Wilson! A cold feeling creeps over him. But then, the voice says something else, something so fantastic that he cannot believe it: If this is real, the real Wilson has kissed him back! Well, that can't be right...

“Come on”, Wilson says, indicating the door with his head: “Put on some pants and let's go.” He leaves the bedroom and a moment later, House hears the water in the bathroom running. Not the shower, just the sink.

House decides to do the normally unimaginable: to just stop thinking for now.

They leave the flat a moment later. Of course, House is wearing pants now, as well as his coat. With his coat on, Wilson also looks somewhat decent, even though his hair is still pretty ruffled.

“See”, Wilson says, pointing at his car: “My car is here, so I'm obviously here as well!”

House frowns. “If I'm imagining you, imagining a car isn't implausible.” Wilson shoots him a death glare. “Anyway, I am not getting into that. Letting an imaginary person drive an imaginary vehicle does not sound safe to me. We're taking the motorbike.”

“Oh, absolutely not!”, Wilson protest: “I'm not getting on that thing.”

“Then I guess we're staying here.”

Wilson grits his teeth. He stares at House. “Fine!”, he snaps: “Why not? This isn't the wildest thing I've done in the last 24 hours!” Frowning, he takes the spare helmet that House has brought out with him. “Oh, so your hallucination needs a helmet?”, he mocks.

“Even my subconscious knows how much of a safety freak you are!”

They get on the bike in silence. Wilson sits behind him, leaning back and not touching him, until House turns his head. “Hold onto me, will you!?”, he says and soon enough feels two strong arms around his waist.

“This will be a fest for all the nurses...”, House hears Wilson mutter and a smile creeps on his face. He starts the machine.

Nobody is there to see them when they arrive at the hospital, which is a shame, really. Well, they are quite late. _They?_ When did House start thinking like that? He wants to hit himself in the head. The more illusional he gets, the more it's going to hurt when it all disappears!

Wilson gets off the bike immediately and struts towards the building. Then, as he realises that House does not have his cane, he waits.

“Left the cane here Yesterday”, House explains as he limps towards Wilson.

“Wanna lean on me?”, Wilson offers.

“That wouldn't make much sense, would it?”

Wilson rolls his eyes.

They go straight for Cuddy's office

“Hello”, Wilson says, before the dean of medicine can open her mouth: “If you could just address me by name and affirm my presence, that would be ideal.”

Cuddy stares at him. This is it.

“You're late”, she says: “And what's going on?”

She shoots a look at House, actually turns her head a little as you would do if there were two people in the room. “What is this?”, she continues.

“If you could just say my name please?”, Wilson persists: “I am trying to prove that I'm really here...”

Cuddy's eyebrows contort. “Well, here you are, Wilson, standing in my office. Is that enough?”

House stares at her. This cannot be real! It has to be a dream!

Wilson sighs in relieve. “Thank you.”

“Is he back on Vicodin?”, Cuddy asks, pointing at House.

Wilson follows her gaze. “No. Well, Yes, at the moment but not permanently.”

Normally, House would say something, make a jab about how he had had a rough day, but he cannot stop staring at Wilson. Somebody needs to wake him up from this dream! Punch him in the face or shoot at him or something...

House stares in awe as Wilson continues speaking. There is some anger in his voice, though it is well contained. “I think it is not surprising, given the circumstances”, he says and as Cuddy opens her mouth, he cuts her off: “You will give him the day off. Me too. That's the least you can do, I think.”

House is speechless. Cuddy stares for a moment. Wilson looks actually furious, in that well-mannered way of his. It's only his eyes that betray it.

“Right”, Cuddy says: “Both of you, take the day off. I'll handle it.”

Wilson nods. “Thank you”, he says and immediately turns around.

Cuddy shoots House a look, who just shrugs. He follows Wilson out of the office.

“You believe me now?”, Wilson mutters, residual anger still in his features.

House continues staring. “It still could be me”, he says in a last effort to keep his worldview and his view of his best friend intact: “She never addressed both of us.”

That gets him another angry look. They are standing in front of the elevator now. Wilson presses the button.

As they wait, Wilson brings a hand to his head and sighs. “I shouldn't have been so harsh to her. I'll have to apologise tomorrow...”

“I think you were great!”

Wilson smiles a bit at that. “Yeah, I definitely have to apologise!”

They take the elevator and soon enough, Wilson is heading towards the office with House's team. House still follows him.

As they open the door, all four team members look at them.

“Hello”, Wilson says: “Now that I have all of your attention, could you please refer to me and him”, he points at House: “By name? Thank you.”

There is a moment of silence.

“Okay, what's going on?”, Taub asks. But Chase is happy to oblige.

“Hello, Dr. Wilson and Dr. House, standing here in the office”, he says with a smile as if he knew full well how ridiculous this is.

Wilson nods in approval.

“Well, Dr. Wilson”, Thirteen chimes in: “I am wondering what we can do for you and Dr. House here, both of whom are currently in our presence.” She shows her teeth in a wide grin.

Foreman rolls his eyes. “If this is for one of your bets, I ain't playing”, he says.

“I am certainly hoping that House and Wilson are not wasting our time”, Taub says begrudgingly and not looking happy as he gets a smile from Wilson.

House's brain has stopped working. He knows as well as anyone that the effect of the Vidocin should have worn off by now and there are three people here, who have confirmed that him and Wilson are both present in the room. The dream theory becomes more and more likely. Unless...

“Quick, Foreman: Punch me!”, House jells to everyone's surprise and Wilson raises his arms immediately.

“Nobody is going to punch anyone”, he says.

Foreman's frown deepens. “Seriously, what's going on?”, he asks.

“Ill explain later”, Wilson promises: “For now: thank you. We're taking the day off and I mean that! Don't try to call either of us!” He points at the team.

Thirteen raises her hands in defence. “Alright!”, she says.

Wilson grabs House and practically drags him to the elevator. Probably, to prevent him from offering any more people to punch him.

While they are waiting, he looks at House. “You all-right?”

House is completely frozen. “No”, he says.

The elevator doors open. They step in.

“It's really you, isn't it?”, House says in a flat voice.

“Yeah.” The expression on Wilson's face is hard to read. He looks tired but also relived and maybe a bit... afraid?

As soon as the doors close, House grabs him and slams him against the elevator wall, kissing him furiously. Wilson lets out a small, surprised sound but then, holds onto him, pulls House closer by his waist, opening his mouth, allowing him all the access that he wants.

It's very much like it was yesterday, only better, because now, now House knows that it is actually Wilson, that he is actually here! His brain still cannot process it. But who needs to think when Wilson is making _these_ sounds and is touching him like _this_ and, oh, God...

It's a good thing that he takes this elevator every day, so he knows exactly how long it takes to get to the ground floor. What would happen, if they don't stop, if they just kept kissing until the doors open? He can hear Wilson's voice in his head: _“You think I care?”_

Anyway, they have a few more moments...

“You still on board?”, House mutters, the tip of his nose brushing Wilson's, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

Wilson is panting, staring at House's lips. Then his gaze moves up to meet his eyes. “Hell Yes!”, he says, smiling brightly: “You idiot”

House lets go and as the door opens, they're just two people standing in an elevator side by side again.

When they start walking, House puts his hand on Wilson's shoulder. He doesn't have his cane, after all, and it's good to have someone to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took me a while to write but I hope you enjoyed it! :)  
> There will be a third chapter where they have the talk (because kissing alone isn't everything, right?)  
>   
> Also, again a massive thank you to the wonderful [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for taking the time to proofread. Your coments always make me smile :)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

When they arrive at House's flat, House goes straight for the bed. He doesn't have his cane right now, and until he gets a new one, he prefers to be lying down. Without any comment, Wilson lies down next to him. It is quiet for a moment.

“So...”, House says eventually, turning his head to look at Wilson. “What now?”

Wilson keeps staring at the ceiling. “I don't know. I guess, I have to go home, break things off with Sam. And then, we just see how things go.”

Something In House's eyes changes. Luckily, Wilson isn't looking, isn't seeing his vulnerable expression. _He would really do that?_ House thinks. “You love her”, he says very quietly.

Now, Wilson's head turns and House almost flinches at the other man's open expression. The brown eyes scan his face, as if he is seeing him, truly seeing him, for the first time. “Not the way I love you.”

These words should be comforting, warming, but House's throat tightens. “I can't... We cannot do this, unless you're really certain. I can't stand losing you.” His voice is rough and low, like it was on that other day, when he said these other words. _If you leave me, I'm alone._

Wilson smiles, very softly. He reaches for House's face and places his left hand on his cheek, the thumb slowly tracing his stubble. “I am certain.”

But the feeling won't go away, this feeling, the tightness in his throat, the doubt. “You can never cheat on me”, House declares and he can see the change in Wilson's expression immediately. Wilson removes his hand, but House doesn't stop. “You loved your wives, all of them. You probably still do. And yet you cheated at least once and none of your relationships worked.” This is cruel, House knows that, but they are too old to be living in a fantasy land where two people get together and live happily ever after without problems. And he needs to address this, or it will be on his mind forever.

Wilson takes a deep breath. He is still lying on his back, looking at the ceiling again. He buries his face in his hands. “I know...”, he says quietly: “I have a lot of issues and, I... I'm screwed up. People always think it's you but it's me isn't it?”

There is a silence.

“Maybe it's both of us.”

Wilson turns his head again, to look at House. There are tears in his eyes but not enough to run down his face. “I cannot promise you anything, I'm not naïve. But I love you more than I have ever loved anyone and if I can ever make it, it's with you. Many of my past relationships have failed because of you, actually, because I have spent too much time with you. So, at least that won't be a problem any more...”

House gasps. “Are you accusing me of breaking up your marriages?”

There it is, the smile that brightens up Wilson's face, makes his eyes small and all the small lines appear around them. The fond smile that, House thinks arrogantly, only he can get out of him.

“Yes!”, Wilson says, rolling over on his side, grabbing House to pull him closer: “And don't pretend like you didn't. You're a control freak if ever I met one!”

Even though it is said light heartedly, House still feels the truth of that. He has put Wilson under enormous pressure, their friendship a constant taking on his own part, everything Wilson does up to scrutiny. “But you're okay with that?”

“Obviously!”

They look at each other for a moment, Wilson's eyes full of love and House's full of wonder.

“Well, now that we got you out of the way, should we talk about all the ways in which I am messed up or is that a topic for another day?”, House asks.

“Oh, I think, I have a pretty good grasp, thank you”, Wilson answers: “But if you absolutely want to list all your faults to me now, please feel free to do so!”

House opens his mouth but before he even can do so much as utter a syllable, Wilson shuts him up with a kiss.

“I've changed my mind”, he whispers against his lips: “You're perfect, at least for me.”

And with that, the tightness in his chest is gone and House can breath freely, feel this moment and Wilson close to him. “You're perfect too”, he says earnestly and because he can see the protest rise up in Wilson's features, he adds a quick: “Shut up”, before kissing him again.

As they separate, Wilson is chuckling slightly. “Look at us two saps.”

“Pathetic.”

“Totally.”

Neither of them moves.

“I think I should be going now, talk to Sam and do this properly. “ Wilson sounds regretful: “God, I can only imagine what she will say...”

“Probably a huge: I knew it!”

“Probably... You'll be alright when I leave you for a moment?”

House frowns. “You mean, if I am going to take any more Vicodin as soon as you leave the flat? No, I don't think so, I see no reason to.”

Wilson grits his teeth a bit at the way House actually sounds offended when being accused of abusing drugs, but he doesn't comment. “Alright, see you later then, I'm coming right back as soon as we're finished talking.”

“Okay”, House answers but as Wilson moves to get up, he pulls him in for another kiss, reaching for his neck and pulling him down. Wilson is on top of him now and the kisses get heated quickly.

Suddenly, Wilson pulls back with some force. “Stop, or I'll not be able to leave at all”, he says out of breath.

House smiles in an evil way but he knows that Wilson needs to have this off his conscience, and he'd hate to be the person to make him cheat again, when he is so close to doing things properly. “Then hurry!”, he says, releasing Wilson from his grasp. The regret in the other man's face as he gets up and out of the bed actually fills him with joy.

“I Will”, Wilson promises, as he leaves.

He is actually gone for a very long time, but House isn't surprised. Wilson is not the kind of man to break up with a woman and then leave her alone with her misery. Also, he can only imagine the things that Sam is throwing at him now. There must be decades of bottled up anger against House...

When Wilson returns, it is night-time. He looks exhausted and doesn't speak as he lets himself fall down on the couch next to House. House wraps an arm around him as if this is the most natural thing in the world and they have been doing this since for ever. But in a way, it is, and they have.

There are a lot of things uncertain and House cannot help to still be surprised at how things have turned out. But as he is sitting there, legs propped up on the table and Wilson at his side, head resting on his shoulder, his warmth radiating through him, he cannot help but feel hopeful for them both.

“I'm tired”, Wilson says after a while: “Let's go to bed.”

House switches off the TV. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it, I finally finished the story :) Hope you enjoyed the ending, even though it was a bit more serious. But I felt like I had to address Wilson's relationship problems in some way or another. Let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> Again, a massive thanks to [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for proofreading and encouragement. It really means the world to me!  
> 


End file.
